


An Eggscellent Development

by Regency



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Eggsy is into it, Gen, Gift Fic, Harry is such a sap, M/M, Merlin is amused and disgusted in equal measure, Pre-Slash, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry commemorates important life events with terrible tattoos. Merlin has tried to stop him. Merlin has failed.  Harry’s latest addition is the worst yet, but Eggsy doesn’t quite agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Eggscellent Development

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mitslits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/gifts).



> Happy birthday to [Hartwinorlose](http://hartwinorlose.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! Hope you had a great day, Ali! (Hope you enjoyed this trash you asked for!)

Harry didn’t have to call himself a sentimentalist, he had friends that would do it for him, whether he sought their input or not.

The third time Harry shifted in his chair, expression pinched with discomfort, Merlin gave him a suspicious look.

“Either you’ve finally given in and climbed Galahad like you’ve been meaning to since last century or you’ve gone back to that wretched tattoo parlour again.”

“Cecily’s shop is hardly wretched. You’re just peeved she refused to ink you when you were pissed and you’ve been too embarrassed to return since.”

“I was perfectly sober.”

“What sober man wants a Welsh dragon tattooed on their back? You’re not even Welsh!”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Not.”

“So.”

“We can argue about this till we reach old age. It was stupid.”

“Since you’re already an old fart, this seems like an appropriate time.  What’ve you done to yourself now?”

Harry blanched.  “It’s nothing.”

“Uh huh. You’ll have to report any new identifying marks to medical, anyhow. I’ll find out, and that means Eggsy will find out.”

Harry miraculously managed to blanch further.  “No matter. He’ll never see it.”

“That confirm it’s Unwin-related.  Oh, what could it be, considering the caliber of your other tats?”  Merlin pretended to contemplate.  “Let’s see, there’s the umbrella, which-–honestly, Harry?”

“I love that umbrella. It saw me through Desert Storm.”

“You’ve had to replace it twenty-seven times since Desert Storm. You’re full of shite.” He gave a Harry a dispassionate once-over.  “There’s the thunderstorm watercolor from when you were trapped in Brazil.”

“Not a word.”

“None to say, it’s beautifully done. Probably the only tasteful things you’ve ever done with your body.”

Harry made an indignant sound but couldn’t actually disagree with him.  All of his tattoos were emotionally-driven tokens of memory. He got them in fits of sentiment and covered them with professional-grade cosmetics during missions. He was quite fond of them, but he could see how anyone else might find them silly.

“It can’t be any worse than that mawkish memorial portrait of Mr. Pickle.”

“He was worth it.”

“He was worth stuffing and sticking in your bathroom _or_  getting as a tattoo, not both. Both verges on psychotic. Anyone else would have carted you off to psych services for both. But I’m easily entertained and you’re very entertaining, so on we go.” He tapped this chin.  “Not a bleeding heart, I hope. Even you’re not that pathetic.”

“See if I ever confide in you again.”

“Wearing your heart on your sleeve is fine, tattooing it on your sleeve is another matter. You’re a spy, for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Don’t you have a knight to woo, Arthur?”

_“Meeting adjourned.”_

It was somewhat less effective with only Merlin in attendance.

* * *

Harry entered the Kingsman main kitchen to find Eggsy staring grumpily up at a coffee canister on the uppermost shelf.

“Ay, Harry. Can you get the coffee up there? Somebody put it too far back for me to reach.”

If Harry thought it was odd that Eggsy, usually determined to be self-sufficient even after these many months, would ask for help completing this relatively easy task, he didn’t voice it. Instead he leaned up to retrieve the canister. Which in hindsight was a rookie mistake.

His arms thus occupied, his jacket rode up and his shirt stretched across the bandaged skin at the small of his back like a rude embrace. He hissed at the contact and shrank back down, but not in time to stop Eggsy from grabbing him around the middle.

“Harry, you’re hurt? How? You haven’t been out on a mission in a month.” He palpated the raised area, and Harry bit back another hiss, this one not entirely pained.  “This looks new. Somebody hurtin’ you? I’ll kill ‘em, name names.”

“Eggsy, really, it’s nothing.”

But Eggsy wasn’t convinced. With an apologetic sound, he rucked up the back of Harry’s shirt to take a look at the damage.

“It don’t look like nothing. They got you right on your spine, too. That ‘ad to hurt.”  He skirted the bandage with a light touch.  “Merlin said somethin’ was going on, but I didn’t think it was nothing like that.” He sounded disappointed.

“I think he might have led you astray.  It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“And I keep tellin’ you, you don’t have to handle things alone anymore. You got me. Kingsmen have each other’s backs. That’s how it is now.”

Harry carefully wrenched free of Eggsy’s hold to right his clothes.  “So it is. I’m very luck to have you, Eggsy.”  His face grew hot as he struggled not to choke on the words.

Eggsy stood up tall and pleased while Harry tried not to melt from conflicting emotions. He had done the right thing, getting this tattoo. Even if Eggsy never knew about–-and Merlin had better pray Eggsy never found out of his doing–-having it was right.  Harry etched the best parts of his life on his skin so that he would never be without them. Eggsy was no different.

“Now, that we’ve cleared that up, how about I make us some decent coffee?”

“You mean that swank shit where you grind the beans yourself?”  Eggsy was content to drink just about anything when he was running on empty, but Harry wanted him to have the finest things that life had so far denied him, right down to the coffee he drank.

“That’s the one.”

“Only if you’re grindin’.”

“Gladly.” Eggsy hopped onto the counter and Harry got to work setting up the coffee grinder and the French press.   _Once you’ve had French coffee, you’ll never want anything else_ , he’d promised. He set the grinder to _drip_.

“If the umbrella’s for Kingsman and the full moon’s for Merlin’s head, what’re the eggs for?” Eggsy’s heels tapped in tuneless synchrony against the the cabinets.

Harry froze, finger above the power button. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

“On your back. The bandage wasn’t that thick so I could see what you’d got. Didn’t take me long to pick out the rest. I saw Mr. Pickle, and an ear of corn? There was a church, too, for Kentucky, I s’ppose. But I don’t get the fried eggs.”

Harry pushed _power_  to drown himself out and his horrific sputtering _._  “Just a whim.”

Tap.

Tap.

“Where I’m from, you don’t put somebody’s name on ya till they mean somethin’ to you.” Eggsy’s heels tapped once more and fell quiet. “Do I mean something to you, Harry?”

Harry’s fingers slipped on the off switch.  Suddenly Eggsy’s hand was there, shutting off the machine and keep him from setting up the press. He was giving Harry that look he gave him sometimes, like Harry was a bit of an idiot and he was fine with it.

“Fried eggs, huh? That ain’t very romantic.”

“I thought it might be funny.”  His forced laughter died in his throat at Eggsy’s expression.

“You thought I wouldn’t figure it out, more like. ‘S all right, you’ve got time to figure out what I’m capable of. I don’t mind waiting.”

“I have the utmost faith in you.  You’re one of the better parts of my li–-my day,” he corrected, “my _work_ here at Kingsman.”

“You’re one of the best parts of my life, too.”  Eggsy took the liberty of adjusting Harry’s tie, his touch warm and possessive, the look in his eyes the same.  “See, I didn’t even need to get a tattoo to say it.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. There’s no pressure.”

“It already means something. And, uh, if you ever want some special sauce with those eggs, you let me know.”  When Eggsy gave him a wink and a smack on the arse on his way out of the kitchen, Harry knew exactly what he meant.

He tapped his glasses to page Merlin as soon as he was alone. “I’m going to murder you for that, you nosy fucker.”

Merlin only laughed. “You’re welcome, old boy. Enjoy your eggs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015). They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
> 
> I'm [sententiousandbellicose](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Come squee with me!


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